I Did Not Mean It
by Channel D
Summary: Ziva's lost her temper one time too many, and so has to attend anger management classes. But first, she has to put up with Tony. One-shot. Humor. Written as a ficlet for the NFA Haiti Relief auction.


**I Did Not Mean It**

**by channelD**

_written as_: an NFA Haiti Relief ficlet.  
_rating_: K plus  
_characters_: Tony, Ziva  
_genre_: friendship/humor  
_prompt_: **an honest mistake**

**xoxoxoxox**

_disclaimer_: I still own not a drop of NCIS.

**xoxoxoxox**

Ziva opened the email from the NCIS Human Resources department and blinked in surprise. _No…_

But there it was, in blue and white, and an Arial font.

_…report at 10 a.m. to room 327 on March 30 for the first session of your required course in Anger Management…_

_This is ridiculous!_ Ziva thought. _I do not have a problem in managing my anger._

_I let it out, as needed, as any well-adjusted person would. Therefore, there is no problem._

At his own desk, a few feet away, Tony blew his nose…carefully. The swelling on his face had gone down somewhat, now a week after surgery on the severely broken nose. He had only been back at work for two days, and it seemed that he spent most of those two days glaring at her.

"It was a mistake, you know," she said, not looking at him.

"So you keep saying."

"Tony, if I wanted to hurt you, I would go after something other than your nose." She deliberately paused. "Perhaps your knees. Yes, I might cut you off at your knees to smite your face. Now I admit, I have never understood that expression."

"Okay, I'm not even going to point out how many mistakes there are in that. So, are you getting a couple days' suspension for assaulting me?"

"I did not assault you."

"You deny hitting me in the face with a shovel?"

"'Assault'" requires intent to cause distress and likely harm. It was not my intention to harm you. At that time. Looking back on it, though…"

"Why would you hit me if you did not want to hurt me?"

She clenched her jaw. "As I have said, to you, to Gibbs, to Director Vance, to at least five people in Human Resources, to everyone we know here, including Thurman Atteberry, the night janitor—_I did not mean to hit you in the face!"_

His eyes went cold. "So you wanted to hit me somewhere _else_?"

_"NO!"_ Breathing hard now, and fists clenched, Ziva briefly considered hitting Tony again—this time, intentionally. She closed her eyes and forced herself to regain control. "Let us review the facts," she then said. "Corporal Unger was coming up behind you, but you did not see him. I did. I already had the shovel in my hand, from digging at the crime scene. I moved to strike him. _You_ got in the way. I hit you _by mistake."_

"But there's more, isn't there?" Tony challenged. "You were angry with me that day. Something about a little powder on your desk, I think it was…"

"You filled my desk drawer with flour!"

"That was never proven. You may have done it yourself to get attention."

_"You replaced the water in my flower vase with cooking oil!"_

"See? It's just as HR said: you fly off the handle at the slightest thing." Tony shook his head. "I only hope that the counseling sessions you have to take will do you some good…before it's too late."

_"Aaaaaargghhh! Tony!"_

"That's what I'm talking about," he said mildly.

_I will not throw something at him…I will not throw something at him…I will not…_ She clasped her hands, all too aware that they knew where her knives were. "Tony," she forced flowers into her voice. "My dear friend, Tony…"

Surprised, Tony looked around to see who she could be talking to.

"Sweet (in a manly way) Tony…It was all an honest mistake. Why would I risk a blot on my impeccable record to assault you over a silly little thing like sneezing powder in my handbag?"

He grinned. "That's the spirit!" Then he frowned. "But there were plenty of witnesses to your attack…so don't think you can get me to drop charges."

"Tony. Tony. How can we continue to work together on a team with this…this trifling bitterness between us?"

"I don't know, but that's what your 8-week anger management course is supposed to help you find out."

_"Urouff!" _she shrieked, throwing her hands in the air. "I shall be _glad _of the course! Glad of the time spent away from _you!"_

He smiled a little, looking almost sad. "Ah, well, _that's_ not the sort of thing I want to put on my resume: _Made coworker glad of her time away from me._ If I ever get my own team, I want people to be happy to work for me."

"Perhaps if you did not do practical jokes on them…"

"And you have done your share of those, Probationary Special Agent David."

She lowered her eyes. "That is true," she said, after a moment. Then she looked up, and extended a hand. "Tony, I most sincerely apologize for hitting you in the face. It was an honest mistake. Can we not be friends, and start over?"

Slowly, he smiled. "Oh, I suppose so. If we must." They shook hands…

…and Tony jerked back, shouting, as Ziva's joy buzzer went off in his hand. He had his wastebasket in his hands, over his head, and was about to hurl it when Vance walked by.

**xoxoxoxoxo**

"You will turn to page 38 in the textbook," said the instructor. "Anger management is done with one or more of several different steps. Step number one: Take time off; count to ten…"

Ziva smiled pleasantly. It wasn't so bad to be in a punitive course when she had someone there whom she knew. Across the aisle from her, Tony was still silently fuming.

Ah, it would be a glorious eight weeks.

-END-


End file.
